The Warehouse on 17th
by Felyneve
Summary: Suicide Squad one shot. Prompt: "With all the hype of the new suicide squad trailer flowing around tumblr, I was wondering if you'd do more Captain smut? Something rough? More in character to how the comics portray Owen's dad." Now this is still with Owen, who is the original Boomerang's son, because I love him just as much :P Captain Boomerang/Reader


The warehouse was just as cold inside as it was outside, your breath billowing out in front of you as Owen locked the large doors you had just run through. He was sweaty, and grimy, and dirty, and he had saved you from the Joker's cronies without a word or a second glance.

Both of you were panting from running, your arm still throbbing slightly from where he had gripped it tightly and forced you to scamper along with an incoherent snarl; but that wasn't what was bothering you. Not in the slightest.

You swallowed thickly, rubbing your legs together in an awkward shuffle that made the large man turn and look at you, his mouth opening to say something, or ask a question, maybe. You wouldn't ever be sure what was going to come out of his mouth, though, because before you knew it you were slammed against him, your hands gripping his neck to pull him down further as your tongue pushed into his mouth.

His hands pushed against your back, fingers gripping your shirt, as he sucked on your tongue. You moaned softly, and he moved his hands, grabbing your ass before lifting you up and pressing you against the metal doors.

Soon, the kiss wasn't enough, and all that was coursing through your body was adrenaline, and the overpowering urge to show him just how grateful you really were. You grabbed the collar of his thick coat, tugging harshly to try and get it off of his shoulders.

Boomer chuckled at you, pulling back enough so that you could still feel his hot breath blowing over your lips. He moved quickly, whirling around and walking to the nearest crate before laying you back on it. You watched as he started removing his clothes, his coat and his jacket disappearing, leaving him in his tank top that defined his sculpted upper body. He looked you over and raised an eyebrow.

"You aren't going to let me do all the work alone," he growled. "Take it off. Now."

You didn't need to be told twice.

You whipped your shirt over your head, positive that you heard the sound of fabric tearing, but that didn't matter, you told yourself as you watched Owen grab the front of his wife beater and pull it off, dropping it to the ground and leaving you to bask in the perfection of his body.

The light was faint, but you could definitely see how thick he was. His chest was dusted with hair, moving down across his stomach in a glorious treasure trail that your fingers ached to run through. Sweat still dripped down over his body, making his skin glisten. Your mouth watered, and you couldn't help it when you bit down on your lip.

The Captain's own lips twitched up in a deadly smirk, looking at you like you were his prey. He moved towards you, grabbing a hold of your jeans and pulling them down your legs hard enough that the skin turned red. He didn't seem to care as his large hands grabbed a hold of your bra, threatening to tear it off if you didn't help him.

When it was unhooked, and the straps were pulled down your arms, it was tossed aside, likely to never be seen again. His hands cupped your breasts, fingers long enough they nearly reached your collarbones, and began to viciously knead, his lips trailing down your jaw. His mutton chops scratched your skin, his hot and heavy breath fanning over your neck, and you couldn't help it when your toes curled and your eyes rolled back, a gasp leaving your lips.

His chuckle made your thighs clench, lust and want clouding your thoughts. All you knew was that you wanted him, and you wanted him _now._

"Captain," you whimpered. "I don't want to wait."

Owen pulled his face back and cut off your whine of protest as his lips pressed hard against yours. His tongue shoved its way into your mouth. He tasted like smoke and mints, a strange, but amazing combination; you were sure that he was the best thing that you had ever tasted.

Your tongue met his, battling even though you knew he was going to win. You were his prey, but that didn't mean you wanted to go down so easily.

Teeth bit into his bottom lip when his tongue receded. You realized that he had already done the job of taking off his jeans, his hardness pressed against your bare thigh. Of course he would be going commando, you thought cheekily to yourself.

His lip pulled as he moved his head back, his smoldering gaze locked onto your own. His hand lifted out of the corner of your eye, and you finally let go, refusing to break from the staring contest.

"What are you going to do?" You taunted. "Hit me?"

He dropped his hand in the blink of an eye to grab your hips and flip you over roughly. Your toes barely touched the ground as his other hand came up, holding the side of your neck and jaw down, not enough to hurt, but enough to warn you that taunting him wasn't going to end well for you.

"Yeah, baby," he drawled, his accent thick and deep. "I am."

As soon as the words left his mouth his hand came down, slapping your ass, making you cry out, and your toes curl involuntarily again. He grabbed your underwear, tearing it from your body without a thought. His touch stung, and he smacked the other cheek before gripping your hips and, rather unceremoniously, driving brutally into you.

Boomer didn't give you a break, settling into a quick and rough rhythm immediately as his hand continued to push down on your head, keeping you right where he wanted you as his other hand crushed your hip. You bit down on your lip hard enough that you tasted blood, hands gripping the crate under you.

You did try to keep your moans quiet, but you quickly realized with such a large man pounding into you from behind and masculine grunts falling from his lips, that it was never going to happen. You breathed hard, and you could already feel more sweat beginning to form along your forehead. Pleasure tightened low in your belly, and you could feel it threatening to release with every drag of his hips, and you craved it enough that you started _begging_ for it.

"Oh Captain," you whined, looking at him out of the corner of your eye. "Harder, please. Give me more!"

The crate shook forcefully, and another slap was delivered to your backside before the hand holding your head down was removed, and you were grabbed around the waist again. He lifted you up and turned, teeth biting your neck. You were pushed—slammed, more like— back down onto the crate, the hit jarring your skull slightly as his hands grabbed both your wrists, and held them down hard enough you could already feel the bruises forming.

He leaned down as he entered you again, his hips grinding into yours as you felt his teeth leaving more love bites up and down the column of your throat. Your back arched, trying to get your bodies closer to another, desperate to feel his burning skin touching yours.

Your fingernails dug into your palms, and his hands tightened their grip even further. Your legs came up, wrapping around his waist with your heels digging into his ass. You heard him growl, a feral sound that nearly pushed you over the edge on it's own. His head moved, his lips coming down on yours again, and you lost yourself to the power of the orgasm the Captain was giving to you.

He held you down as your body jerked under him, your vision blacking out as the pit in your stomach released with a force you weren't ready for, until your body curled in on itself, your face pressing against his shoulder as you heard him gasp, and felt him throbbing inside of you as his hips slowed to a stop.

You shook against him, your eyes falling closed as you both panted. His lips pressed against the side of your head, and he released your wrists, wrapping his arms around you to help you sit up. You opened your eyes when he pulled back, his hands touching your sides with a faint smile, before stepping away completely.

He rooted around on the ground, grabbing his clothes and putting them on at a leisurely pace, and you stood up to do the same after watching him and realizing that the moment was really over. Your adrenaline high was gone.

You pulled on your pants, your shirt in your hands, when you heard police sirens in the distance. Boomer perked up when he heard it, too.

"Seems we aren't goin' to your place," he grumbled, pulling on his jacket. "Leave the door open for me, sweetheart?"

Owen planted another kiss on your lips, and was gone before you could reply.


End file.
